BATSHIT
by the-CHELO
Summary: Are you a fan of Batman? Are you interested in the crazy life of Bruce Wayne? Are you obsessed with the Bat Family? Wanna laugh your ass off with the Arkham Villains? Wish to see a side of the GCPD you rarely get anywhere else? Ready for some guest starring of the Justice League and the Teen Titans? Well then, the BATSh!T is the story for you! An 'Alfred the Butler' is included.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Me do not ownie Batman, so I like to politely ask that no one report me and have me arrested. OK? Alright, we now return to your scheduled program.**

* * *

 **CHAPTER ONE: The Bat Jingle**

For the first few years donning the cowl, Bruce had gotten used to the type of popularity the media capitalized on him. He seen the Batman toy merchandise on display windows at shops, the many Batman-brand products on aisles inside stores, and even some Batman-based comics on library shelves. Bruce didn't bat an eye from the get-go, mostly because he could _care less_ about businesses wanting to make a profit off his alter-ego. Although outrageous, he knew any probable results of his night crusades were inevitable. It was pointless to take offense toward these actions; they weren't harming anyone or being used for despicable gains (don't worry-he doubled checked!). And the people, especially the children, seemed to enjoy them. So Bruce left it at that.

Soon enough, something derived from the media did came across Bruce, and he became personally affected by it. There was a live-action series that aired on TV weekly called "Batman". Long story short, it was a campy crime show starring Batman and Robin who defends Gotham City from the Arkham criminals, just like in real life except exaggerated to play for laughs. Bruce's reception of the show (which he found silly and understating to the actual issues in Gotham) was eclipsed by the fast growing fanbase. One of the many fans of the Batman show was none other than Dick Grayson, who made it a religious routine to watch the afternoon episodes every Monday and Friday before heading out on patrol. Now, Bruce was not bothered by that. After all, Dick was a kid, and as his guardian Bruce wanted his childhood to be happy one, which was why he always waited patiently on his partner until the show was done those nights. Furthermore, during those patrol nights Dick appeared more driven to complete their objectives without getting distracted. Bruce had to offer that show at least _a smidge_ of credit, regardless of his own biased opinion.

What Bruce was bothered by arose one Friday night while they were on patrol. That night, Batman and Robin intervened a gang of grunts planning to do a kill and run on the Mayor who was staying overnight at the city hall, probably under Penguin's order. Once they escorted the Mayor to safety, Batman and Robin turned their attention back on the gang. Precisely at the moment when the brawl initiated, Robin burst into song.

"Nananananananananananananananananananananananana BATMAN!"

The theme song of the Batman show. He was literally singing the theme song. Not only that, every time the Dynamic Duo landed a hit on one of the grunts, Robin would exclaim a sound effect for each punch or kick.

" Bam!" "Kapow!" "Whack!" "Zock!" "Oof!" Boom!"

Then, every time Batman performed a clever maneuver to throw off the gang's a-game, Robin would cheer in a singsong voice.

"Batman! Batman! Batman!"

Around the time the two finished knocking the daylights out of the grunts, Robin repeated the beginning verse as a closing.

"Nananananananananananananananananananananananana BATMAN!"

And the objective was complete. The entire phenomena was quite odd, neither the grunts nor Batman saw it coming. Honestly, Bruce was a tad irritated that Dick brought up his enjoyment of that tv series in midst of a fight. Nevertheless, Bruce decided to brush it off. It was expected of Dick to be playful out on the field, a regular trademark of the Boy Wonder. In all likelihood, he wanted to make a light-hearted joke for his own amusement. Hence, after they called the GCPD to arrest the grunts and gathered evidence that might link Penguin to the orchestration of the crime, Batman and Robin headed straight back home with no complaints or lectures. It was a one-time thing, so there was nothing to worry about.

Boy, did Bruce miscalculated big time. Because that _wasn't_ the end of it. Dick continued to pull the same antic every Monday night and Friday night, singing that obnoxious theme song in the middle of skirmishes with criminals. He kept making those ridiculous sound effects, except with much more resonance and oomph. If on those specific nights Robin happened to be tied up or stuck in a trap, then Dick would oblige to chant Batman's name over and over to help boost his partner's morale (note: it has an opposite effect). And he persisted to sing the finale when those nights were a success. Naturally the other patrol nights went on as usual, but god did Monday and Friday transformed into days of foreboding for Bruce. What's worse, the antic constantly distracted Batman's concentration from the task at hand right when the song begins. That damn stupid Batman show had gotten under Bruce's skin in a detrimental way, yet when he informed Alfred of the problem the butler merely chuckled. _Chuckled_ , like it wasn't serious at all.

That was the last straw; Bruce had to put an end to it. He did not want to endure it any longer, the migraines were just too much. Bruce, no - _Batman_ cannot allow such a vexing deflection to live any longer. The antic must die. So one afternoon, before that abomination of a show was to air, Bruce called Dick to his office for them to have a heart-to-heart discussion concerning the Batman show (who would've thought that Bruce would cringe at his own title). Bruce demanded that Dick ceased the antic on patrol, and also ceased singing the theme song in the morning and in the shower (yeah people, he did those as well). If Dick did not comply to Bruce's orders, then not only would he be prohibited from going out on patrol Mondays and Fridays, but he would be restricted from watching the show ever again. Bruce made sure of that by threatening to break every single TV set in Wayne Manor, and discard all of Dick's stuff relating to the show. The outcome settled to Bruce's favor. Of course, Dick broke into tears toward the threat of his own stuff being taken away, but eventually his ward obeyed to the terms.

With a single snap of the fingers, the antic stopped. No more songs sprung up in the heat of battle. No more blurted onomatopoeias for every single movement Batman made. No more cheerleader chants when Batman got the upper hand. No more loud singing at the rise of dawn or during frisky bubble baths. All patrol nights reverted to normal. The migraines gradually disappeared. The deed was done. Batman had slain the Bat Jingle, wiped it from existence. If Bruce wasn't such a shrewd, brooding introvert, he might've cried tears of joy that year. _At long last..._

* * *

Fast forward to 15 years later. A ton has changed since the early days of Batman's run. Dick had grown up and left his Robin title for his solo career as Nightwing. Bruce scarcely gets to see his eldest child as much as he used to, what with the former Dynamic Duo patrolling separately in different cities. A couple of occasions have emerged where the two find themselves in each other's company or working together again. True, nowadays Bruce and Dick tend to bicker and fight time to time, though they still, beyond doubt, bear that old rhythm of compatibility. The mantle of Robin proceeded to remain existent, having three other recipients in its lifetime. From Jason Todd to Tim Drake to Damian Wayne. The former two prospectively garnered their own identities as Red Hood and Red Robin, while the later currently carries on the title. And like Dick, Jason and Tim were also located at great distances dealing with their own operations. It's a rare case for Bruce and his children to all be in one place on one night. It's even more rare for the five of them to team up harmoniously. Yet, _here they all are_ , advancing on an important mission tonight.

Once again, The Joker, The Penguin, and The Riddler opted to collaborate in unloading utter chaos upon Gotham. Knowing full well that they needed more hands on deck to absolutely foil the scout trio's plans, Nightwing urged Batman to request aid from Red Robin and Red Hood, in which Red Robin quickly agreed and Red Hood reluctantly agreed. The team managed to pinpoint their secret hideout at East Gotham. After formulating a strategy to take out the three criminals and their manpower, the five pressed forward to their destination on a Friday night. They had arrived to the outskirts of the secret hideout, which was a four story office building guarded by armed thugs at the entrance and rooftop. As predicted, there weren't any watchmen at the back end of the building, where the five happened to be. When Batman felt reassured that no eyes or cameras were observing from the building windows on each floor, He cued Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Robin to approach the building and unlatch the bolted doorway. They did it accordingly and quietly, which churned suspicion within Batman. He anticipated for the casual arguments amongst themselves or the short remarks to be thrown about. Instead, the team successfully unlatched the door, prompting Batman to enter and lead them inside. No words were said.

No words were said as they zipped through the hallway, or up the staircase, or when they halted on the second level where a load of thugs were occupying the hallways, indicating that The Joker, The Penguin, and The Riddler had to be behind one of the room doors. The time to take immediate action was nigh, Batman acknowledged that, and thus the team had to enact the tactic: Red Hood was to take care of the men on the first floor, Red Robin and Robin were given the third floor, and Nightwing had to deal with the fourth floor and rooftop. That left Batman to storm the second level head-on, alongside facing against the three criminals. Batman, swift like the wind, made the first move. He hurled a smoke bomb at the center of the hallway, blinding and confusing the armed thugs, and darted into the fumes. But just before Batman got one of them into a chokehold, something rebirthed into existence. Having yet to leave to their appointed floors, Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Robin burst into song.

"Nananananananananananananananananananananananana BATMAN!"

And every time Batman landed a hit on one of the thugs, the four exclaimed a sound effect for each punch or kick.

"Bang!" "Thwack!" "Pop!" "Slam" "Whap!"

And every time Batman performed a clever maneuver to throw off the men's a-game, the four cheered in a singsong voice.

"Batman! Batman! Batman!"

It manifested out of the blue, no alarm gave warning. What was previously a deceased memory was now resurrected in Bruce's mind. The theme song - _the idiotic, mortifying, goofy theme song_ \- returned with a vengeance. Bruce didn't know which was worse: the fact that Dick still remembered those days, or the fact that Dick relayed the antic to Jason, Tim, and Damian so that they can chime in. Dick must have orchestrated the entire thing, must have waited for the right moment, and must be smiling in a devilish manner behind Bruce's visual field. And for what? Well, in the old words of a Bruce Wayne who was naïve before the disaster struck, _'Dick wanted to make a light-hearted joke for his own amusement'._ Physically, Batman resumed rendering the rest of the thugs unconscious without hesitation or difficulty. Mentally, Bruce drove all the way back to the batcave so that he could shroud himself in deep misery. For never was there a tale of more woe, than how the Batman was cursed by a Batman show.

* * *

 **I don't know if I'm easily distracted or lazy, but I have made my rebound. So this story will be a part of a one-shot compilation series called BATSH!T. I've been planning to post it for awhile but hey, better late than never. Some chapters are short so the process will be a lot faster here. Don't worry, I'm still working on the parodies and other stories I have on my profile. They won't be forgotten, but I appear to be unpredictable when it comes to update posts. Hehehe. Anyways, feel free to leave some comments on this chapter. Was it good, was it bad, or was it weird? Two or more reviews are enough encouragement for me to carry on, the readers are my motivators after all. Damn, this author note is dragging, I'm gonna get the hell outta here! Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to thee Ch. 2! Apologies for the short delay.**

* * *

 **CHAPTER TWO: Bats Are Nocturnal**

It was a quarter past 6 A.M. when the first beam of sunrise streamed through the windowpane of Alfred's bedroom. The downpour of light gently bathed his face, prompting his gradual awakening. Settling upright on the bed, Alfred pivoted his gaze toward the clock in the room. Spotting the set time frame of the hands, Alfred rose to his feet and swiftly stripped his nightgown off, revealing the _classic_ butler outfit underneath.

"Very well, I suppose I must commence the early bird procedure," Alfred candidly affirmed, departing from his bedroom to launch the morning. The Wayne Manor was silent, and Alfred's soundless movement across the hallways and down the staircase added to the silence, a plus considering Alfred sought to carry forth the routine without disturbances. Traversing the dining room, he entered into the kitchen and went straight for the sink to scrub his hands. As soon as his hands were dried, Alfred opened a cabinet above him and pulled out a coffee canister. He took the canister to the coffee maker nearby and decanted the desired amount of grounds to the filter. He picked up a measuring cup beside the coffee maker, made a second trip back to the sink, and returned to fill the reservoir with water. After he turned on the coffee maker, Alfred went to the stove and turned on the heat. Next, he went about opening the cabinets, the drawers, and refrigerator to retrieve the necessary ingredients and tools. With proper preparations, Alfred successfully produced the pancake batter, which he proceeded to pour on top of a griddle. Under 10 minutes, a sufficient supply of pancakes were made and placed onto 3 plates, along with a cup of orange juice for each plate. By then, the coffee was finished, applied specific final touches, and satiated into two black mugs. An exclusive cup of French Vanilla tea was fixed just in case. Alfred precisely positioned each dish on the table in the dining room, and _voila_! The breakfast meal was set. Part one of the early bird procedure was complete! After giving a look-over of the dining room, Alfred straightened himself and approached the staircase to embark on part two.

Now upstairs and crossing hallways once more, Alfred arrived to his first stop. With all his butler nonchalance, Alfred twisted the knob of the door in front of him entered into the dim room. It was a surprisingly tidy area regardless of the array of sharp weaponry lodged onto the walls. They weren't necessarily utilized per se (thank heavens!), merely a collection up for exhibition. On the ridiculously large bed, a small body wrapped under a cotton blanket squirmed lightly in their sleep, murmuring something along the lines of 'I am the greatest' and whatnot. Alfred minced toward the veiled window and fleetly drew back the curtains, revealing the blinding rays of dawn.

"Time to rouse, Master Damian," Alfred announced, the luminosity engulfing the entire room.

A blatant _hiss_ was the only response Alfred received before Damian sprung off the bed, tugging the blanket along with him, and scurried into the closet adjacent to the bed, shutting the door behind him. Expelling a simple sigh, Alfred ambled to the closet, extended his hand, and flipped the light switch. He regarded the blink of light beneath the door before he heard another shrill _hiss_. The door swung open, with a blurry image of Damian dashing out of the closet and crawling under bed for refuge. Another sigh slipped from Alfred as he crouched to the floor, unsheathed a penlight from his suit pocket, and shone it right below the bed. The light made a direct hit on Damian's face which caused him to _hiss_ again, scrunching his eyes and baring his teeth in a beastly manner. Though Alfred could hardly take Damian seriously when he was all bundled in the blanket like a cottony caterpillar.

"You have to get washed up and dressed, Master Damian," Alfred reasserted, grabbing at the blanket until he felt the form of an ankle. He tugged Damian out of the bed and dragged him all the way out of his room.

Damian bellowed a lengthy "Noooooooooooo!" while he ineffectively clawed at the carpet to overcome the butler's grip. Finally reaching destination, Alfred pushed the bathroom door open and flung Damian inside, where a fresh selection of clothes awaited him. Alfred left Damian to it (who huffed the usual _'tt!'_ sound from behind the door) as he progressed forward to his next target. He reversed his direction and headed for the room opposite to Damian's. Alfred prodded the door open when it was jammed halfway by a stack of books. Alfred peered into the dark room, and distinguished from the glints of light behind him a mishmash of investigation reports and comics on the floor, the desk, and the bed. That was normal. A body laid near the bed-must've unconsciously rolled off-with a comic in hand, snoozing away. It was indeed apparent that the teen had, instead of resting at the appropriate hour, stayed active overnight to occupy himself with leisure. The room possessed the advantage of having no windows and a light switch stationed at the far end of the room, but Alfred always packed _contingencies_. Rather than struggle with the door, Alfred extracted a flash bomb from his suit pocket, unpinned it, coolly alerted "Wake up, Master Tim!" and tossed it inside. Alfred closed the door and continued onward to his third target, although not before he noticed from the corner of his eye a white radiance from beneath the doorway and the sound of Tim's startled "Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!" that followed.

Taking a left turn down the hallway, Alfred reached the destined room where the entrance was commonly open. An orange glow from the window imbued every corner of the bedchamber, however it has yet to evoke the torpid body in a bed full of various stuffed animals. The young lady seemed to have sunk within the heap of plushies to evade the incoming daybreak. Alfred rose an amused eyebrow at the scene. He gave her a few minutes of peace before he detoured the bed, examined the layer of animals, recognized a fringe of black hair in one of the gaps, and deliberately hovered a hand over a fluffy panda.

"I'm afraid you can't hide forever, Miss Cassandra," Alfred softly informed, lifting the plushie from Cass's face.

Cass wiggled and writhed to the abruption of her dormancy, whining painfully, "My eyes!"

Alfred nodded approvingly, having done his deed for the third round, and made his departure from Cass's room to conduct his next stop. Passing through two hallways, Alfred eventually neared the master bedroom with the double doors. He thrust both of the doors open, entering the pitch-black, almost barren room excluding the grand dresser and the king-sized bed. Detecting that the man of the house did not stir from the din of the doors (and he pledged to have the keen hearing of a _bat_ ), Alfred rolled his eyes and edged up to the window closest to the bedframe, drawing the thick curtains immediately. The body in bed growled in annoyance to the maximizing sunlight, shifting right to move away meanwhile pulling a pillow over his bed as cover.

"Bats are nocturnal, Alfred," Bruce's muffled voice grumbled to the elder in the room.

"Bats may be, but Bruce Wayne isn't, sir. I won't accept any further nagging, so be best that you stand on your feet and get yourself groomed for work," Alfred replied, exiting the master bedroom to offer Bruce his privacy. Descending the staircase for the second time, Alfred strode to the main entrance of the manor and stepped outside to collect the morning paper in front of the gates. After 5 minutes, Alfred regressed into the building, knowing fully well that the others have fixed themselves up and relocated to the dining room for breakfast. Though just before Alfred steered to their location, he made a quick trip to the living room where, laying on the couch, was an infrequent guest of theirs at rest. Pausing behind the couch, Alfred loomed over to find the young man still asleep, with the helmet still worn on his head to probably shield himself from any kind of light. Alfred analyzed the headgear until he acquired what he was looking for.

"Rise and shine, Master Jason," Alfred cordially declared, pressing a specific button on the helmet to activate the optical lights.

Jason jerked from the sudden brightness, clasping his hands onto the helmet to struggle out of the blinding trap. A gruff "What the fuck!" was snapped before Jason swayed too far to the border of the couch and consequently flopped onto the floor. Alfred professionally managed to contain his amusement.

"Breakfast is prepared for you at the dining room, so hurry along," Alfred advised as he made way to the dining room. Naturally, the other four were seated at the table presentably garmented and neatly cleansed. However, the atmosphere was groggy and bitter. Cass slouched in her seat with dazed eyes, poking at the her stack of pancakes with the fork. Beside her, Damian grouchily sliced his pancakes with two knives, rumbling expletives under his breath. On the other side of the table, Tim dozed off under brief moments, drinking from the mug at times to forcefully stay awake. At the end of the table, Bruce sat with his chin rested on his entwined hands and his elbows atop of the table, wearing a scowl on his face. During the interval of Alfred delivering the newspaper to Bruce, an ungeared Jason shuffled into the dining room and unconsciously drooped next to Tim, seizing the pancakes hands-only and stuffing them in his mouth. Alfred mused at the quiet environment before disappearing into the kitchen. Exactly when Alfred reappeared with the French Vanilla tea in his hands, Stephanie (who Alfred purposely let in when the two met at the gates of the manor) cheerfully skipped toward the group and did an upbeat debut. "Good morning everyone," Stephanie chirped, while Alfred sipped his tea as the bat clan groaned an "Uuuuuuuuuuuuugh!" in unison.

Part two of the early bird procedure was _complete_!

* * *

 **Thanks for reading guys! Leave a review if ya like...**


End file.
